The Final Memories of Benjamin Finn
by PinkLemonade1886
Summary: All the citizens of Albion know the legend of the Princess that defeated the darkness with her companions. What they don't know is what happened behind closed doors. As Ben Finn reaches the end of his life he puts his memories down to paper to give his version of how these events unfolded and the truth behind the fabled love that blossomed between him and the princess.
1. Princess Anne

I recall the good Queen with clarity but only as she was in her younger days. At some point my mind reeled back to the time when she was a nubile young lady with too much fire. I was unable to comprehend the fact she had aged, becoming a withered old woman with grey hairs and weak smiles. Even when I myself, had become a withered old man. I document these memories because every day I continue on with my life I feel myself slipping further and further away from sanity. Often forgetting simple things that use to come so easily to me. To not forget Queen Anne of Albion and my wonderful misadventure with her I put these tales on written paper. Perhaps you, dear reader, will be able to get more enjoyment from reading them than I do from writing them.

The first time I had laid eyes on the Queen she was simply a princess. I couldn't say I was infatuated with her then. She was fourteen and I was twenty five. The crowned monarch Logan had paid a visit to the new recruits. An effort to improve morale or so we were told.

We stood in the courtyard of the palace in an organized fashion. Perfect rows of forty or fifty soldiers with shined rifles and washed uniforms. My stomach churned as I gazed at the grand palace. An untainted white palace with the inhabitants seemingly perfect. Knights roamed the grounds in their shining metal armor, speaking to pretty young ladies that donned gaudy clothes and hairstyles. I curiously asked the soldier next to me why the knights wore such an outdated uniform. He told me that it was for showmanship. I watched the ladies bring their powder white hands up to the armor and caressed it with a flirtatious look. I couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that they required a metal uniform to obtain a woman but I shrugged off their antics as foolishness.

Two teenage boys came strutting from the inside of the palace dressed in deep purple tunics with gold trimming. They each held a trumpet in their hands that seemed too big for them. They brought the horns up to their lips and the two trumpets echoed in to the open courtyard, silencing anyone who was present.

"His majesty, King Logan and the Princess Anne have arrived!" one of the boys announced to the group. Images of the royal family flashed through my mind, making my stomach churn more. I imaged a tall noble looking king with strong features and a young princess that was the epitome of beauty. It was a bit of a shame when reality presented me with the actual royal family.

King Logan was certainly tall but instead of radiating nobility with strong features, he was a lanky man with translucent skin and sharp features. His beady eyes skimmed over us. If it was only I being presented, I would have easily shrunk under his cold gaze. The princess, however, was something entirely different. I could tell that every effort was taken to remove any signs of maturity. Her auburn hair was tied back in an intricate braid, not a trace of makeup could be found on her face and her deep blue dress hid her developing feminine body. Yet despite the effort, all of us fell under the enchantment of her gaze.

King Logan presided over us with Major Swift on his left and the princess on his right. Major Swift was a tall man with a dramatic salt and peppered handle bar mustache. He stood proud, presenting us lowly maggots to the King. The fruits of his harsh labors. The King exchanged words a few quiet words with Major Swift. Nobody could hear their conversation but judging by their satisfied smiles, I can only assume that our clean presentation was pleasing to the monarchs. Though, I am certain of one thing. We were being presented to the King yet all our eyes were glued on the princess. She stood with a stoic expression. For a brief moment I wondered about what was running through her childish little head. I continued to stare at her in an attempt to read her body language but she was a mystery.

The King placed his hand on her back and ushered her to face Major Swift. Major Swift gave her a deep bow. In return, she executed a perfect curtsy. Her perfection fascinated all of us. She was incomparably perfect to other girls her age. It was the one thing we all agreed on. Logan then addressed us with the princess standing in front of him and his hands placed lovingly on her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear. A curious expression crossed her face for a second then she nodded her head.

"To show our gratitude for serving the kingdom of Albion, my brother, the good King Logan, will be donating an allowance to all of your families. Your service is appreciated for it is you, the members of the military that provide a shield to the innocents of Albion. Thank you so much for doing your part and protecting those who cannot protect themselves," she finished her speech and gave us a grateful smile before her brother ushered her back to her previous place.

"The Princess has spoken," Major Swift announced to us. Synchronized, we clicked our heels together and saluted the last two royal family members as they retreated into their grand palace.

We marched away from the grand palace, the image of the childlike princesses lingering in our minds. The march was long and hard but the brief moment of attention that was given to us by our King, more importantly his princess, felt like an honor. It wasn't customary for royalty to address new recruits in such an intimate way. Just as our leaders had speculated, our moral had been lifted.

Close companions of mine continued on about how refreshed they felt having the appreciation of the monarchs and some even commented on the princess's development. I heard criticisms about the princess's appearance. The citizens were yearning for a noble and intelligent princess. Instead, they were being given a child in a pretty dress. Thankfully, that talk didn't last long. Our fantasies of the monarchy's outrageous lifestyle were quickly replaced with news from Bowerstone.

Rain fell on our heads as we made camp in the mud. The rain had made the hard soil slick and thus the tents couldn't be properly propped up. We waded through the mud, awkwardly stepping over each other in an attempt to keep balance. When Major Swift announced we would rest for the night we made a few futile attempts to make camp but in the end, our frustrations got the better of us. We gathered together in groups of three or four and huddled under the trees. I wedged myself between a large woman with a scar decorated face and teenage boy that barely had peach fuzz on his boyish appearance.

"W-Who are you?" he asked me. His body trembled under his thin coat. Poor lad had gotten shafted by the quartermaster. I removed my coat and draped it over his shoulders, settling for my wool vest as protection from the weather. He gave me a weak smile, followed by an annoyed grunt from the masculine woman on my other side.

"Some gentleman you are. Ignoring a woman in need," she joked.

"Excuse me," I replied in mock offense, "but I never ignore a woman in need. If I had you'd be wearing my coat right now,"

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed. The woman and I roared with laughter at the boy's reaction. He was so young. I wondered briefly what motivated them to join the military but kept my thoughts to myself. I cupped my hands over my mouth and blew warm breath into my palms. With our bodies pressed against each other, we waited under the trees for the weather to clear.

"You hear about what's happening in Industrial Bowerstone?" the woman asked. Industrial Bowerstone was considered the heart of Albion. A city wrought with pollution and corruption, its modern ideals pushed our generation forward with a promise of a bright future.

"Yeah, I heard that Reaver took control of it," the boy replied.

"To add to that it was the King that put Reaver in charge," I continued, "Shame too. I'm sure the previous King hadn't intended for his worthless son to ruin his vision by putting the lives of the common folk in that criminal's hands," Reaver was well known throughout Albion. Mostly for his slimy way of handling business and his over the top sense of fashion. His name was, more often than not, spoken in infamy.

"My sister's working at one of Reaver's factories. Said he's being real unreasonable. Forcing them to work long hours for little pay in harsh conditions. And the wages keep getting smaller each week. She even said that he's trying to petition King Logan for relaxed child labor laws. The nerve of that scumbag," the woman explained to us.

"That's why I joined the military. It was either war or the workhouse. Not that I see much difference. At least with war, you're doing some good for your home," the boy spoke. Fortunately, I was never given the honor of experiencing the workhouse. From what I heard, it wasn't pleasant. Lives lost to unsanitary environments, unsafe machinery and the dehumanizing of such hard labor. My heart reached out for the woman's sister.

"Your sister has my sympathies," I told her.

"Thanks," she grunted, slightly annoyed at my response. She probably thought my sympathies weren't genuine. Platitudes are easy to say when it's not you on the receiving end of them.

The Industrial Revolution happening in Bowerstone was all anyone could talk about. The monopoly Reaver had created was trapping the citizens in an inescapable web. The very thought of it made my blood boil. Children as young as five or six, perhaps younger, were being worked harder than animals for virtually nothing. I recall a strong need to end this injustice but my path would lead me elsewhere. Some place far darker than the stuffy factories.

I spent the rest of my recruitment forming friendships that would inevitably end once we were sorted into our designated platoons and shipped off to far ends of the kingdom. At the end of the training period Major Swift had summoned a few of us. An elite few one of the called on officers said. I laughed along with him, hiding my true fear and instead showing my usual arrogant mask. I leaned against the wall and mindlessly played with a coin. I flipped in swiftly across my fingers. I had tried to start a conversation among my fellow comrades but they were too nervous to even speak. When Major Swift didn't mention us during the initial sorting each one of us had a brief moment of panic. It wasn't until we were told that Major Swift would meet with us individually that fear had sank into our veins. The wooden door swung open and emerging from it was a pale solider. His brow was furrowed into a worried expression and he stared down at the crumpled paper he clutched in his shaking hand. He wasn't the first one we had seen emerge from the office in that state. The first soldier to do we just assumed he was a weak willed man and laughed at him. After the fifth and sixth soldier, we started to understand the gravity of the situation and our conversations came to a dull end.

"Benjamin Finn," I heard Major Swift call from his office. My hand twitched and the coin fell to the floor. It's sound rang through the hallway, disrupting the heavy silence. I swallowed my fear and strutted proudly into Major Swift's office.

He sat me down in wooden chair. It creaked under my weight, making me a tad worried about it breaking but as Major Swift took his seat in his velveteen chair behind his desk a new fear overtook me. He shifted through a stack papers on his desk with a serious expression. Even as a young man I was incapable of keeping quiet for long. I started to tap my feet rhythmically and whistle a little tune while my eyes wandered around his plain office.

"Will you shut up?" he demanded of me. I quickly stopped my annoying movements and waited with my hands folded neatly on my lap. His angry eyes returned back to papers on his desk.

"What am I here for?" I demanded in return. Offended at my insolence, he shoved a paper in my face. I swiped it away from him but kept my eyes locked on him. Whatever may happen I felt entitled to hear it from my commanding officer.

"You are being stationed at Mourningwood fort," he started, "And I will be accompanying you. Along with the other soldiers that were called on," My eyebrow quirked upwards in a confused expression. The name Mourningwood had a familiar sound to it but I couldn't place it at that time.

"Mourningwood? Where's that?" I asked.

"It's…an undesirable place. The fort was built near the town of Mourningwood. A cursed place. It runs rampant with things that shouldn't exist but unfortunately, do exist,"

"Sounds like my kind of place!" I laughed. Ignoring my jokes, Major Swift continued with his explanation.

"The fort is built on a swamp. Our sole duty is to fight back the monsters of the night," his voice became quiet. I became aware that he was hiding information from me. It angered me that a man of high respect would disregard such information from me. Especially when it was my life that I was giving to him.

"There is more. Tell me what you're hiding," I pried from him.

"The monsters of the night…they are creatures that not even your worst nightmare can create. They are the undead and they are vile. I have only called upon those who I believe are able enough to withstand such creatures. Please understand that this-"

"I accept," I spoke earnestly. I had this foolish notion that being stationed at Mourningwood would further my reputation. I imagined myself reaping glory from slaying hideous monsters in the swamps. Overcome by arrogance, I accepted the terms without ever so much as listening to them.

"Finn, please listen to me before you come up with any false conclusions about Mourningwood," Major Swift tried to reason with me.

"Whatever they are I'm positive that I don't need to know them. You need a good soldier and I'm just that," I stood up and saluted him with my chest puffed out, "I'll do my duty well. Don't you worry about that," those were my final words before I dismissed myself. How foolish I was.


	2. Formal introductions

During my final night in Bowerstone I wandered through the streets, uncharacteristically sober. I don't know what it was about that night but as I walked through the cobbled streets I couldn't help but to feel a sense of nostalgia. I thought back to my humble beginnings then I admired how far I've come since then. I walked hunched over with a tattered brown coat giving me the impression that I was a local instead of a soldier that had just sold his soul to Albion. For a while, everything seemed so quiet. It was strange to be without company. I had just spent my final month in Bowerstone warming the beds of pretty barmaids and drinking the city's piss flavored liquor. My month of debauchery had come to a sad end. I looked into the sky to see the faint glow of the moon hidden behind polluted clouds. Sleep continued to elude me, so I decided to spend my time doing something a bit more out of the ordinary. Sit in silence and think.

I made my way to the quietest place in the city; the cemetery. The eerie atmosphere could be felt from the first step you took past the iron gates. The tombstones stood erect in the moist grass with small bouquets of brightly colored flowers planted right in front them. I walked past them, ignoring the urge to pluck one from the tombstones. I made my way through the dark cemetery to the weeping willow tree that the graveyard was centered around. Its peculiar shape gave the impression that the tree was crying, almost mourning over the lost lives. I moved my eyes from the weeping plant to the statue that stood proudly a few feet away from me. Crafted from marble, the detail of the statue was exquisite. I half expected it to start moving at any moment. The statue was of the late King Lionheart. He stood tall with his famous sword planted firmly into the ground. He wore his armor with his chest puffed out and the marble cape falling around his ankles. I moved my starstuck gaze upwards to his chiseled features and fierce eyes. An exact replica of the crown was placed on his head. Even in death Lionheart wore the crown better than his son. I took my first step towards the grave of my childhood hero but I came to an abrupt stop when I was pulled away by the frosty glare from the auburn haired beauty kneeling in front of it.

"What do you want?" she demanded of me. I looked away from the lifelike statue to the woman kneeling in the grass. When I saw who it was my heart came to a stop.

"Princess Anne," I gasped. As if on instinct, I gave her a proper salute the way I did a year ago in her family's courtyard, "My apologies for disturbing your prayers, your majesty," her frosty glare was relentless. Only now did I realize how she had taken after her father. She did not share his chiseled features but their eyes. Their eyes had the same burning fire hidden behind them. It was intimidating yet, intriguing.

"I am not addressed as your majesty. It's suiting but until I become Queen simply address me as your grace," she ordered.

"Yes, your grace,"

"At ease, soldier," I rested my arm at my side but retained my strict mannerisms. Her voice became softer as she turned her back to me, "If you wish to pay homage to my father you may do so after I have left. It is custom that I come here when seeking guidance but it would seem I am not the only one seeking my father's wisdom,"

"Many people come here seeking your father's wisdom, your grace," She raised herself from the ground and lifted her hood over her curly auburn hair.

"As they well should," she turned to face me, her burning blue eyes boring into me. I became so enraptured by her gaze that I had forgotten to step out of her way.

She waited with an annoyed expression. She crossed her exposed arms and tapped her manicured nails against her porcelain skin. Unintentionally, my eyes wandered down. I took notice of how mature she had become since I last saw her in that shapeless blue dress. Her dark brown peasant dress wrapped around her curves, exposing more of her breasts than a modest princess ought to expose. My admiration came to an end when I felt her hand come across my face. I was knocked back a foot or two with my hand pressed against my stinging cheek. She glowered at me with hate radiating off her small person.

"You forget your place, soldier!" she hissed. Once I realized my mistake I snapped to attention the way soldiers should be in the presence of their superiors.

"Forgive me, your grace," I dropped to one knee to give her the deepest bow I could.

"I will not sentence a man to his death while standing on my father's grave but understand this. Should I ever catch you leering at me again I will not hesitate to hang you for your insolence. Have I made myself clear?" Her voice was cold and her words harsh. I heard stories of the King and Queen's great kindness so I had to wonder, how could their children turn out to be so cruel? She would hang me for admiring her form. It was a mystery me how the future of Albion rested in the hands such a cruel King and an extreme princess.

"Yes, your grace. You have made yourself crystal clear," I submitted. She lifted her skirt in a noble fashion before starting her angry walk back to the palace, "Before you leave, princess, allow me to make my opinion known to you," I heard her footsteps come to a halt before she said,

"Depends on what you have an opinion on, soldier," I stood up and turned to her with my signature cocky smile. Though, the bright red mark on my cheek might have thrown off my attempt to be charming.

"You are dressed as a peasant. However, you are easy to spot. Your charisma makes you stand out. That, and you still act like a princess. If you truly wanted to blend in you should not have been so …perfect," the word slipped from mouth before I had an opportunity to find a word better suiting to the princess.

Perfect was far too forward. Far too flattering. The corner of her lip turned upwards into a knowing smile while she maintained her cold eyes. She caught on to my motives and I could see she wasn't impressed.

"If that was your attempt to sedate my anger then you will have to do better," she confidentially played with me. If I wasn't so scared of being hanged I might have been impressed that she was able to see through my charming front.

"Of course, your grace. You're probably use to hearing all sorts of flattery," she approached me with her back straightened her jaw set. I stood stiffly as I was trained to do but I could feel myself crumble as she took her final steps towards me. She placed her hands on my chest then gave me a warm look that enticed me to move closer to her.

She was close to me. I was tempted to kiss her but I held back. There was no telling what she was capable of and I wasn't interested in finding out.

"I am. I hear flattery every day from nobles and peasants alike. But a word of advice to you. Next time you see royalty dressed in common clothing you will do them the courtesy of keeping your mouth shut," The princess had put me under such a spell that I didn't realize the sudden change in her tone. What started off as a romantic moment ended with her knee crash into my groin and me falling forward onto the newly rained on grass.

"You're grace?" I groaned.

"As I said before; you forget your place, soldier," she said in a low, vindictive voice. I laid on the grass, holding my throbbing privates and watching the princess walk off into the distance. Cruelty must be the only thing she and her brother have in common because even in my pathetic state, I still considered her to be as perfect as the day I saw her in the courtyard.

The following morning, I was dragged off to Mourningwood. I watched families bid their farewells to each other and sweethearts drag on their sad goodbyes. It was heartbreaking listening to a child cry because their father was leaving to face certain death. I wanted to comfort the child but there was nothing to say. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and waited for Major Swift to give us the order to move out.

The march to Mourningwood was heavy with loneliness. Even men without attachments felt the losses of those who were forced to walk away from their loved ones. We were quiet and no one dared to disturb the solemn march. Laughter would become a rare luxury in the environment we were being forced into.

Everything about Mourningwood was vile. The smell of death was strong in the misty swamp. We could hardly see beyond the fog and the occasional pained wail from a wandering banshee did little to ease our fears. It was sickening to be in Mourningwood knowing that we were constantly being watched by the phantoms lurking around us. When we made it to Mourningwood Fort it felt as if we had entered a holy oasis of protection.

The first month was almost a surreal experience. At times, it felt like we were stuck in a never ending night. I was speechless when I realized that the sun never shined on this damp place. What seemed like a holy oasis before suddenly felt like a prison that slowly sucked the life away from its inhabitants. For the first year I forced myself have a sense of humor. As time passed, it became easier to laugh. Things I had once taken for granted suddenly became of value to me. The company of a woman, the taste of quality wine, friends. It wasn't long before we started to feel detached from the rest of the world. Rarely, we would get news from Bowerstone. Being fed these rumors was our reminder that our delusion of civilization was an actual reality somewhere in Albion. It became an anchor for many of the soldiers.

We were told all kinds of news and rumors. The soldiers that had ties in Bowerstone Industrial would often grill the postman about the state of the city. We were told that the state of the city had plummeted. The living conditions had only become worse with a sudden spike in deaths caused by the workhouses. The King's iron grip only became tighter with the rumors of revolution circulating around Albion. Please understand that during this time a revolution was nothing more than a passing thought. Things people would say in the tavern after they've had a few drinks. I became wary of our monarch after he started enforcing harsher punishments for these acts of 'treason.'

To balance the serious tone of these weighty subjects, the postman would pass us rumors of local celebrities and the royal family. We laughed when we were told of the prostitute who was arrested for robbing a nobleman while he slept and we groaned when the postman told us of the Princess's engagement. We soldiers weren't interested in the romantic fantasies of the princess. Those stories were fit for housewives. Not battle hardened soldiers. I feigned disinterest but once our break had ended, I skipped out on my duties for a little while longer to ask the postman for news of the princess. Since our meeting in the graveyard she became of interest to me. Most of the time, she was nothing more than a passing thought but as the state of Albion declined so did she.

She faded farther and farther away from the public eye until finally she became a ghost. We stopped hearing news of her. She stopped making appearances outside of the palace. The press criticized her sudden retreat as cowardice. They claimed she was too much of a coward to face her people. I toyed with the idea. Hearing these rumors felt like reality was slapping me in the face. Like I was being reminded that I did not know who she was or what her true intentions were. I found it difficult to believe that princess I had met in the graveyard was the frivolous coward the press made her out to be. Yet, I also couldn't piece together the puzzle that she was. Reality was slowly chipping away at my fantasies. Soon enough, Mouringwood became my reality and the princess, along with most of Bowerstone, felt like a dream. A vivid, beautiful dream that made me question what was real.

I would close my eyes and there was the princess in her peasant dress. Standing before me in the graveyard, she grazed her fingertips across my cheek, moving her hand into my hair. I felt her warmth and watched as the fire in her eyes dim into a warming expression that beckoned me closer to her. When her lips curled into a smile, the world came to a quiet stop. Then I open my eyes.

I woke to a swamp haunted by its victims. Corpses climbing their way through the earth and sinking their claws into the mud. They pull and tear their way through until they are finally trudging towards the fort with their jaws hanging and their eyes rolling around in their empty heads. Or the agonizing shrieks that served as music in this place. The first time I faced the children of this cursed swamp I remember being so terrified that my body froze in place. Their small bodies running through the murky water towards me with their rotted skins hanging on their bones and their twisted smiles dancing on their disfigured faces. There was nothing I could do because I saw them as the child they once were and when their banshee mother materialized I remember dropping my weapon. There was nothing I could do. This reality dashed my fantasies away and my anchor became nothing. The princess became a ghost to her subjects and to me.

Six years passed at Mourningwood Fort. The soldiers developed a close bond that felt unbreakable. We all shared an unwavering loyalty to each other and our commanding officer. The King made a point to remind us that we work for the crown but to prevent us from taking the King's head Major Swift went behind the King's back and told us that our duty was to Albion. Our role was to serve and protect the citizens. Whoever wore the crown was irrelevant to us. At that time, I didn't realize that his words painted him as a traitor. I considered him untouchable. He wasn't only our commanding officer but one of the closest friends I have ever had. Though I saw him as our leader, the rest of the world started to scrutinize him, waiting for an opening to dispatch and replace him with someone more complacent to the king. So when I saw the princess again, a fully grown woman, I was apprehensive about her reappearance. I wasn't sure if she was her brother's puppet or someone else entirely.

I remember seeing Sir Walter strut into Mourningwood Fort with his arms stretched wide and calling Major Swift to him. The princess trailed behind him, dressed to look like a mercenary. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her. There was a drastic change in her that took me by surprise. She didn't resemble the royal princess I saw at Bowerstone, or even the proud peasant that slapped me across my face. She was colder now. Something inside her was missing and it showed in her sad blue eyes.

"Major Swift. It is good to see you again," she cordially greeted him. Her politeness felt artificial. I imagine that Major Swift felt the same as I did about her new attitude. She crossed her arms and looked away from us. She examined our fortifications, meeting the eyes of every soldier along the way as if to verify that they were actually standing in her presence. I saw Walter whisper in Major Swift's ear. The Major's face went grim quickly then his sympathetic eyes met with princess.

Major Swift bowed deeply to the princess, "You have my condolences, your grace," He said in a grave voice.

"Thank you, Major," She accepted his condolences with grace. It seemed that as Albion evolved, so did she. Before, when Albion was a proud land, she was a proud princess. Now that the land was crumbling I saw that she was falling under the same oppressive pressure.

"Ben!" he called to me. I approached Major Swift while wearing my charming smile. I couldn't let it be known that I was stunned to see the princess again. Much less, in her current state. I put on my usual mask and pretended not to be aware of the situation I was in.

"This is my Lieutenant Benjamin Finn," Major Swift introduced me.

"Pleasure to meet you, Princess," I greeted.

"It's no longer princess," she sadly chuckled, "I'm afraid I've been stripped of that title. It's simply Anne now,"

"Of course, Anne,"

I hid my sympathy for her by replacing it with enthusiasm. I lead her up the barracks and introduced her to Jammy. He was so ecstatic to meet her I expected him to piss himself at any moment. She was polite to him and smiled at the appropriate times while attempting to put his excitement to rest. When he saw how good of a shot she was with the mortar he was even more impressed by her.

"That's enough, Jammy!" I jokingly chided him.

"Right! Sorry, Princess!" he quickly apologized to Anne.

"I told you to call me Anne. When you've been marked as a traitor such formalities suddenly hold little value," she joked with him. It was strange seeing her interact like this.

"Will you keep such a casual attitude if you become queen?" I asked her.

" _When_ I become queen I will return to my formal habits. It would only be right, Mr. Finn," for a second I saw anger flash in her eyes.

"Please call me Ben. Mr. Finn makes me sound like an old man," I jested.

"Of course," she flashed an arrogant smirk, "Mr. Finn."


	3. Entering Bowerstone Industrial

I'm sure you decided to pick this book up expecting tales of high adventure and detailed retellings of the battles you've heard many times before. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint. If you want me to sing my praises I advise you return this book to wherever you found it and seek out my first book that does what it is expected of it. I write this story to unburden my heavy heart. These are my confessions. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Now I shall return to my story.

I joined the Princess's army with my reservations kept quiet. She promised Major Swift that she would return honor to the soldier's uniform but I could not be sure that her intentions were true. I sought confirmation from her. Confirmation that she was would stay true to her word. I paid her special attention and in return she paid me the same courtesy. Though, in a much harsher way.

A few days into our two week journey back to Bowerstone my infatuation with her was reawakened. I seldom believed in love at first sight so I denied the very idea of it but she stirred something inside me. Curiosity, I believe.

For the duration of our two week journey I watched the way she moved. I listened to the way she talked. I am constitutionally incapable of keeping my mouth shut now so you can only imagine how I was back in my youth. Whenever I unwittingly stepped over a boundary she threw me a cold glare that silenced me. Walter and Major Swift thought it was funny but I found it funnier when she silenced them.

"The great Ben Finn taken down by the look of a woman? This is hilarious!" Walter roared over a campfire one night. I sat in the company of Walter and Major Swift while the princess had wandered into the forest, claiming that she had spotted a lake nearby and would bathe in it. I encouraged her to allow me to follow her but she was quick to reject my less than chivalrous proposal.

"It's sweet that you're so concerned for my wellbeing, Mr. Finn but I think we both know that in battle I am far more capable. Having you along would be a hindrance to both of us so I must respectfully decline your offer. Now if you don't mind," her eyes flitted towards the rabbit roasting on the campfire, "our dinner needs tending too," her diplomacy had a certain roughness about it that would be smoothed in her later years. I slumped back to the campfire alone, unwittingly summoning the vultures Walter and Major Swift. They came from behind me with this evil glee painted on their smiling faces.

"She's a strong woman. Not unlike her father," Walter commented. I lazily tossed a small pebble into the fire and smacked my lips.

"Strong isn't the word I would use. I like strong woman, no doubt. But she's…something else entirely," I argued.

"You're correct. She's a princess. So don't go getting yourself involved with her," Major Swift jokingly warned me. I replied in kind by throwing him a funny face, making both him and Walter laugh.

"You don't need to worry," I laughed, "Royalty isn't my type," I assured Major Swift, acting as if it was all in good humor.

"While we're on the subject of the Princess Anne; Walter," Major Swift turned to address Walter, "Will she really honor her promises?" Walter showed his obvious offense and opened his mouth to express it but before he could a cold voice cut cleanly though the tension.

"You've not even known me a week and you're already questioning my character?" The princess loomed over us, looking like the angel of death herself.

"I-I meant no offense, Princess. Except that-"Major Swift tried to defend.

"Except that we want make sure we didn't hand our loyalty and services to the wrong person," I casually expressed to her. I looked up from the campfire to meet her eyes.

I saw no trace of offensive or anger. She stared me down with an analytical look, making me feel as if she were examining me like I was an object that she couldn't decide if she wanted to buy or not.

"Before you judge me too harshly I implore you to remember that I have known both of you a total of three days. So before you try to staple me as an ally or foe, at least give me the opportunity to prove myself," she pleaded.

"I…of course, your grace," Major Swift conceded. She gave a pleased smile to him then sat next to me. I watched as she ran her fingers through her soaking wet hair. It was so long. It fell just above her tailbone in perfect spirals. She pulled a silver comb from her personal satchel and proceeded to detangle her hair, with streams of water falling from the ends as wringed it out every so often.

As she combed through her hair the faintest scent of the lake wafted off her, reaching my nose and making give her an over exaggerated disgusted facial expression. Her brow furrowed down into a confused look.

"What is it, Mr. Finn?" she asked while continuing to comb her hair.

"You smell like the lake," I played.

"Ben!" Major Swift hissed.

"Smelling like the lake is typically what happens when you bathe in it," she tried to brush me off with her sarcastic comment but I was not so easily disposed of.

"Then wouldn't it be better to not bathe in it?"

"I am not content smelling like swamp, Mr. Finn. Unlike you," Walter snorted a laugh then tried to disguise it as a cough. He and Major Swift exchanged amused smiles then returned to pretending that they weren't paying attention to my conversation with the princess.

"I do not smell like swamp!" I defended.

"Yes, you do. Perhaps you've become blind to the smell," she mused. I sat up with my lip tightened.

"What happened to your friendly attitude, Anne?" I demanded. She turned her head to me with a familiar glare on her face.

"You will either address me as princess or your grace. As your Major did," she corrected me.

"W-What?" I dumbly asked her. Her sudden change in mannerisms rendered me speechless. This new image I was creating of her was slowly being molded into something far more unappealing.

"You heard me, soldier,"

"You were so much nicer back at Fort Mourningwood. Why are you acting so cold? Have I done something to offend you?"

"Not at all. This is simply the way I am," she turned to me and said very slowly, "It was an act," her condescending attitude and her blatant lie made me so angry that I stood up with a scowl so fierce on my face that both Walter and Major Swift were caught off guard. She, however, remained calm and continued to brush her hair.

"An act? You won the soldiers over by lying and manipulating them! Jammy practically fell in love with you. Not to mention every other soldier there!"

"I never once told a lie. Everything I said was completely true. You're not angry about what I said. You're angry about how I acted. Excuse me for acting like a princess," Her indifference to me inflamed my anger even more.

"Acting like you're one of the people then turning around and acting like someone completely different behind their back is lying! No matter how you look at it! What was the purpose of lying to your supporters?" She let out a tired sigh and stood up to face with a similarly fierce scowl. With every passing second the tension became heavier. I've never wanted to hit a woman more than on that day when she made me feel so foolish for believing in my schoolboy fantasy of her. In hindsight, I think I was angrier at myself than at her.

"Because it was necessary. I have been labeled as both illegitimate and a usurper. Do you know what means? It means that I am no longer in line for the throne and I have no choice but to take it by force. You, and the other citizens, call it a revolution. As a princess, I call it usurpation. If I am to take my kingdom back I need support. Since I lack allies in the noble families I go to the people for support. What better way to win them over than to act as if I am one of them? You only know how to maneuver the battlefield. Please. Allow me to maneuver politics. Do not question me when you do not even understand the situation," she returned to her seat, leaving me standing dumbstruck. My pride had taken a fatal blow that day.

The princess taught me a valuable lesson. I learned to never speak my opinion on matters that I don't understand. I tried to scavenge what little dignity I had left and kept quiet for the rest of the night. I had lost all of my nerve and couldn't even look the princess in the eye until the following morning.

She paid me little attention for the continuation of our journey. We had a few exchanges since then but none so noteworthy that I've bothered to remember them. I was mostly an observer. I took the time to actually understand her and try to dash away my foolish ideas of who I thought she was. She wasn't frivolous like the press had said she was; she was realistic. Any request she made was always within our power. She never asked for more. She ate the same gruel that we ate. She slept on the same hard ground that we slept on. I certainly couldn't criticize her fortitude.

On the night before we came into Bowerstone the princess ordered us to make camp. I argued that if we traveled through the night then we could be in the city by sunrise. She would not budge since she was more concerned for the health of the old men in our group. I agreed after seeing Major Swift and Walter trail behind us, panting and out of breath. They were grateful for our consideration and fell asleep fairly early. While they snored in their bedrolls I sat near the fire with my eyes locked on the princess. She sat across from me holding a small book and reading through it, her perfect finger tracing the pages. The longer I gazed at her the more I could feel myself slipping under her enchantment. She looked up curiously from her book and asked me,

"What are you staring at?" I touched an area just below my left eye then pointed at her.

"You have a beauty mark right there," I pointed out. It was a very transparent cover but my wit was dulled at the moment.

"I do. My mother had one just like it," she casually replied.

"It's cute. I bet your father thought so too,"

"I wouldn't know. He died when I was four so I never knew who he was a man. I was told he was an excellent strategist though. Among many other things," she closed the book and placed it on the ground then rested her head in her gloved hand.

"What was life like back at court?" she tilted her head, showing her confusion.

"Why do you want to know about court?"

"I'm curious. I've heard so many stories that I'm trying to separate fact from fiction," my answer seemed to please her as she inhaled deeply and looked off to the side in thought.

"Well. To start off, it was more specifically my brother's court. He surrounded himself with his closest friends and their wives, sisters and daughters. It was a hotbed of promiscuity. My brother's liaisons never lasted long. He liked to present himself as strong willed and harsh but he was never one to deny a woman with loose skirts,"

"As most kings do," I commented.

"Yes," she agreed. She casted her eyes downwards before looking back up at me to continue her story, "We had parties frequently. Well, feasts to be more exact. At least four feasts a month. My brother wanted to seem like a wealthy king so what better ways to do so than throw as many extravagant parties as you possibly can? I only attended about one a month out of obligation. I hated being around such silly and disease ridden people. You're more likely to find a four leaf clover in the middle of a desert than find a virgin in my brother's court. So you can imagine how picky I was when it came to choosing my ladies in waiting,"

"No, I can't imagine," I laughed, "You know. The more I hear about your brother's court the more I'm wishing that I was a part of it,"

"Until you get syphilis from a lowly courtier," we chuckled together then I returned to quiet position and waited for her finish. She looked into the night sky with a sad, yearning smile on her face, "I had five ladies in waiting. Four of them were the daughters of nobleman. One of them was the younger sister of my late fiancé, Elliot. Her name was Margaret. She was kind enough but a bit of an airhead. Another was a scullery maid named Helen. Helen was my favorite of all my ladies in waiting. It was a scandal when I gave her a position in court but I appreciated her honesty. She became my closest friend. This might have angered the other ladies but as far as I know, Helen handled them well enough. As for the other three ladies, there was really nothing extraordinary about them,"

"Really? Would you mind introducing me to these ladies of yours someday?" I joked.

"I would love to but poor soldiers really aren't their type. And the scent of swamp still lingers on you. That certainly won't help your case,"

"You wound me, your grace!" She threw her head back laughing with her hand covering her mouth. There was satisfaction in making her laugh.

"Then you have my sincerest apologies, Mr. Finn," she chuckle, "It's late. I should retire to bed. So if you have any more questions for me now would be the time to ask them,"

"Tell me about your fiancé," I quietly requested.

I felt a shift in the atmosphere. The lightness of our conversation had suddenly become saturated with the sadness that dripped from her. She picked at her nails, refusing to look at me.

"He was a good man," her voice was quiet, lacking in the force it usually had, "He wasn't a skilled fighter or diplomat. He had a rounded baby face and dark brown hair with fair skin. What he lacked in what you would call masculine traits, he made up for with consideration, kindness, bravery. He would have made an excellent king. Now, he was true man of the people. His family did a lot of philanthropy and donated generous sums of money to organizations that helped the impoverish,"

I noticed how she fell back into her shell as she tried so hard to hold back all the words she wanted to say. There was more to his death than she was telling me. I could tell by the way she refused to look at me and instead, she focused her attention on her dirty nails. I assumed that his death must have been recent considering that she still seemed to be in grief.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize—," she threw her hand up to silence me.

"Don't. I'd prefer it if we stopped talking about this," she stood up and walked back to her bedroll with false confidence. She crawled under her blanket then drifted off into sleep without another word to me.

The four of us woke at the crack of dawn and entered the cursed city of Bowerstone Industrial. As I walked side by side the princess a feeling of awe overcame me. I had become so lost in Mourningwood that I had long since forgotten that there was a civilized world. If it could even be called that. Beggars called out to us, merchants yelled to get our attention, prostitutes tried to entice the men in our group. I stole a glance at the princess to see her grimacing at some of the more undesirable citizens that the city had to offer. A man wearing thigh high boots and a pair of panties cried out to the princess.

"Get away from me, plebian!" she spat. I quickly pulled her away before the situation could escalate. I dragged her into an alley by her upper arm and pulled her so close that our noses almost touched.

"Don't call them that!" I hissed at her.

"But—"

"Do you want to be recognized? I recall you telling me that in order to win the support of the people then you have to act like one of them, correct?" she lowered her eyes with a contemplative scowl.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then perhaps you should start by adopting the local vernacular, your grace," I suggested to her through gritted teeth. She pulled arm away from me and turned her back to me.

"Your suggestion has been duly noted. Thank you, Mr. Finn," she formally appeased me before strutting into the crowd of downtrodden citizens with the same noble confidence that would surely give her away. I shook my head in frustration then ran after her, weaving my way through the crowd that parted for her as she made her way back to where Walter and Major Swift rested.

The two old friends lead us to a small tavern in the slums. It was quiet with a low profile. We were led up the stairs to a private room. The four of us stood in a small cramped space with a partly broken bed pressed against the wall and a small dresser with rotted wood. Walter sat on the bed with a loud crack echoing through the tavern.

"I think you've gained some weight, Walter," Major Swift joked. Walter patted his large stomach and nodded his head in agreement.

"Just a little, old friend. Just a little," he chuckled. The princess shut the door then took a seat next to Walter.

"So what's our next move?" she asked the both of them.

Major Swift pulled a folded dress from the dresser and placed it on the princess's lap. She unfolded the plain brown dress with great care as if she was handling one of her more formal gowns. When she saw it in full view her brow furrowed down in an almost disgusted expression. Personally, I thought the dress was quite nice considering that its purpose was to help her blend in the with masses. Though, I suppose to a woman of higher breeding such as the princess, the dress wasn't all that impressive.

"What is this?" she demanded while pressing the dress against her body.

"A dress I bought from one of the stall vendors. It'll help you be more inconspicuous when you go out in public. We've come too far to have you arrested by one of Logan's guardsmen," Major Swift explained. She nodded thoughtfully, accepting the less than attractive dress.

"We'll have a few days of recuperation. It's been a long very long walk. I believe that we've all deserved a break," Walter added.

"Of course," the princess agreed, "Thank you, Major Swift for taking these precautions. Now if you excuse me, I must change," she exited the room with the dignity befitting royalty.

"She won't last a day," I commented when I was sure she was out of earshot.

"If she can mow through legions of Hollow Men then I'm sure she can manage to stay quiet for a few days," Walter argued.

"Please. Did you see the way she was in the crowd? She called the prostitute a plebian,"

"That was the princess being merciful. Back when she use to live at court she had a nasty habit of making the other nobles cry. On a daily basis! Just to piss her brother off! I remember once a nobleman tried to court her, on Logan's orders, and when she found out she practically tore the court apart,"

"She was that heartbroken?" Sympathy welled in my heart for her. I could empathize with feelings of heartbreak and I for the first time, I was starting see past her title.

"Of course not. She didn't even like the nobleman but she respected him enough to let him down easy. It wasn't until after her lady in waiting, Helen, told her what her brother had done. Logan hoped that if the nobleman was charming enough then the princess would be too distracted with her blossoming new love to concern herself with matters of state so he paid this nobleman to court her. In retaliation, she spread nasty rumors about Logan's uh…virility, and publically shamed each and every one of his mistresses so much that not only was their name in ruin but their families' names as well. All of Logan's mistresses left and haven't returned since,"

"What was the point of that story?" Major Swift irritably asked him.

"The point is, that the princess showed Logan how unloved he truly was. The princess didn't throw a temper tantrum. She instilled fear into her brother and every noble in Albion. All of his mistresses had said that they loved him and they would stay by his side no matter the situation. Yet, they all abandoned him when he needed them the most. Logan was a wreck. He was so angry at her that he slapped her so hard across the face that he left a bruise. I watched her turn her head towards him, look at him in the eye and say, and may god kill me now if I'm lying, she said, 'If you were wiser about choosing your allies perhaps they may still be here and not cower from your little sister.' That was only the beginning," Walter turned to me, "So before you go doubting the princess's abilities just remember that she once brought a king to his knees because of a few well worded rumors. If she can manage that, I'm sure she can manage keeping a low profile for a few days," Walter finished. I stood silent with my arms folded across my chest. I didn't quite understand the logic behind what she had done (I still don't) but from the seriousness of Walter's tone I could tell that she was not one to blend into the background. Despite his convincing argument.

The three of us decided that we would wait for the princess's arrival downstairs at the tavern. We sat at a table together, bent over our pints. I threw back my drink and when my cup slammed down on to the wooden table I caught sight of the princess gliding down the stairs in her new attire. There was nothing spectacular about the dress. I was more enraptured by the woman wearing it. She had grown into a curvy woman with a figure that reminded me of a perfectly sculpted hourglass and a pair of ample breasts that peeked out the plunging neckline of the dress. I was rendered speechless at how she managed to make even something as simple as a plain brown dress seem regal.

"Mr. Finn. You're staring again," she pointed out, waking me from my daydream.

"My apologies, your grace," I nervously replied. She took a seat across from me, folded her arms under her breasts and leaned forward on the table.

"I trust you haven't forgotten my threat," she quirked her eyebrow up expectantly.

"No. I haven't forgotten,"


	4. Brandon Seymour

The following day the princess requested that I escort her around the city. She had a wondrous sense of curiosity but little grasp of the social norms of the lower class. She habitually curtsied at would have appropriate moments for a noble to do so and her regal presentation was astonishing compared to the grimy sewer dwellers of the city. I learned a great many things about the princess during our two day time frame. She was an open book without falseness. When I met her at the front of the tavern she forced me to break the sacred rule among men and women; never advise a woman on her attire.

The princess emerged from the tavern during early morning hours wearing the peasant dress that Major Swift had given her. She must have found it too plain and paired it with ruby earrings and a complicated hairstyle of curls and braids that must have taken hours to do without the aid of her servants. She gave me a polite curtsy then rose with the dignity of royal.

"Princess," I chuckled, "I understand that this clothing is unbecoming but must you really try to doll it up with such decorations?" I playfully tapped her earring.

"Is it too much? I don't have much choice regarding day wear," she plainly spoke, not catching that I was joking with her.

"Most of us lower class citizens don't wear such jewelry or hairstyles. Here," I moved my hand to her ear only to have her slap it away.

"I can do it myself," she removed her earrings then placed them in the pocket of her apron. She raised her arms and began to pull pins from her hair, dropping them in the same pocket that held her earrings. I watched her unravel her hair, tracing her body with my eyes and pretending to not be enticed by her.

"There," she ran her fingers through her loose curls with a disappointed expression.

"Now if only we could find some soot to rub on your face," I laughed.

"No," she decisively rejected. Her lack of explanation gave the impression that her word was indisputable. Instead of pushing her buttons further, I extended my elbow to her and waited patiently for her to take it.

What I thought would be a chore became a day spent well in her company. Her naturally devious features reminded me of a fox. The coy smiles and the sly glimmer in her eyes with every joke she made. I thought that I would be able to appease her by taking her to all the tourist attractions but instead we found ourselves wandering aimlessly around the city while making conversation laced with laughter.

"So, tell me," I started, "How are you enjoying your day?"

"It is a wonderful day, Mr. Finn!" she laughed. She happily clapped her hands together as she watched the street performer juggle a set of swords, "I haven't been this entertained in years!"

"Then I am glad!" I laughed along with her. When the performance ended I took her hand and continued on with my tour.

"I imagine that you've seen better performances," I said to her.

"Yes but most of the time I was far too preoccupied to enjoy them. After I was confined to the palace I had to find other means of…," she trailed off with a distant look in her eyes. She stared ahead of us at a box displaying something that I couldn't see from where we stood. Color drained from her face, leaving her a pale husk. Grey clouds began to shade us from the sun. As she pulled away from me the sound of rumbling thunder alerted the city of an impending storm. With her back straightened, she ignored this warning and continued ahead of me.

She was so entranced by this display that no matter how many times I called her name she never replied. I followed behind her, unsure of what I should to. I tried to pull her back but she tore her herself away from me and shot me a harsh glare. When we came to the wooden box I felt my stomach flip.

I saw before me a body decomposing in the display. The skin was a dark shade of grey, with dried blood decorating the top portion of the dirtied white uniform. The golden embroidery was exquisitely done, but the color faded into a dark yellow. My eyes wandered upwards towards the head to see who this poor bastard was. Instead of seeing the rotted face of a corpse as I expected to, I saw that there was no head at all. Just the dry flesh of a decapitated man. Scrawled across the glass in red ink between us and the body was the word 'Traitor!'. The princess pulled her apron up to her mouth, spat on it and started to work on the erasing the word.

"Anne, what are you doing?" I hissed at her.

"I will not allow my late fiancé to be treated with such indignity. He was noble once. I will make sure he is treated with the respect entitled to him, even in death," she scrubbed at the inked curse until it was only a red smudge across the glass.

"There," she sighed, "Come. Let us leave," she ordered. We hooked our arms together and turned away from the display yet the princess couldn't tear her eyes away from the headless corpse. There was ferocity in her expression as we walked away from her fiance's body. I saw no indication of grief or sadness. I only saw the burning hatred that secretly frightened me.

"Anne," I warmly whispered to her. She shifted her glare towards me, striking me into silence. What thoughts I had the moment were dashed away at the sight of her scowl.

"What is it, Mr. Finn?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"I…,"

"Anne!" another voice broke through the tension. We whipped our heads around to see the owner of this voice. A hooded figure weaved its way through the crowd, careful to hide their face in the shadow of their hood. I instinctively stepped in front of the princess in an act of chivalry. She pushed past me and ran to the hooded figure with her arms wide open. They embraced each other like old friends. The hooded figure lifted her from the ground and held tightly to her body. When she was placed down I watched the figure smooth the curls in her hair and kiss her forehead so lovingly that I questioned their relation to each other.

"Brandon," she sighed with a smile on her face, "How do you fare?"

"I am well enough for a man in my circumstances. I have missed your company, your grace," his voice wavered, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. She cupped his hands together and gave a kiss on his knuckles.

"Have you come to visit Elliot?" she asked.

"I have. It's rare that I ever see a familiar face here. Most supporters have either left or...never mind. Where have you been? It's been months since your sudden escape,"

"I've been-," I coughed to remind her that at the moment she was a peasant. She stopped herself and gave me an understanding nod, "I've been recuperating. Please come with me. There is much we have to discuss,"

When we regrouped at the tavern that sheltered us Major Swift and I were cast aside as Walter and the princess celebrated their reunion with the man. Now that we were behind closed doors, he revealed himself to us. He had unkempt dark brown hair that hung in loose curls around his matching brown eyes. His features were round but his trimmed beard gave his otherwise feminine features a masculine edge. Walter embraced him like a father would a son. I jokingly gave Major Swift a sad look only to have him shake his head at me in denial. My jaw dropped, showing how actually offended I was by Swift's distant attitude.

"Brandon! What are you doing here, my boy?" Walter slapped his hand on Brandon's back the way soldiers are known to do. He stumbled forward before composing himself while trying to hide his embarrassment.

"I was visiting my little brother. It was a coincidence that I should find the princess doing the same," he turned to the princess for comfort. She wore a smile that shielded nothing from us. I could see the happiness and relief she felt standing in his presence. Her feelings were obviously reciprocated judging by the love he tried so desperately hide in his watery eyes.

"I don't want to interrupt, but I'm afraid that we are unacquainted with you," Major Swift spoke up. Brandon blinked away his tears then turned to us with his back straightened.

"My apologies. I am Brandon Seymour. My family once had close relations with the royal family. Pleasure to meet you both," he bowed to us in respect.

"My name is Ben Finn. Likewise," he gave him a polite bow in return.

"Major Swift, Lord Seymour," Major Swift bowed in equal respect.

"Now, Brandon. What news do you have for us? How has court changed since my departure?" The princess inquired. Her cold demeanor resurfaced to show that she was finished with exchanging pleasantries.

Brandon spent the next hour or so informing us on the state of the court. He described to us the frighteningly tense atmosphere, listed off the executions of nobles accused of conspiring with the princess and of the king's engagement.

"Logan is engaged?!" the princess leaped from her seat in fury, "To what harlot?!"

"Mistress Haddock," Brandon replied in a soothing tone. He reached to gently grasp her hand but as soon she felt his skin on hers she slapped his hand away and stormed to the other side of the room.

"That Haddock whore! What lies have spewed from her lips?! Tell me now, Brandon!" she demanded.

"She has claimed you are illegitimate based on the evidence that you have betrayed the king. She takes great efforts to insult your fashion, your intelligence, your talents and brags that she will be a better queen than you or your mother,"

"That-,"

"There is another matter," The princess paused her rant and stared at Brandon in quiet indignation, "Mistress Haddock was promoted to Lady after she announced that she was pregnant with the king's heir. They were engaged immediately afterwards,"

"Is that so?" she sharply exhaled, "The fish monger's bitch thinks she can take my crown? She believes that she can manage a nation based on her ability to lie on her back? I recall the Mistress Haddock. A pretty little thing. How charming she was until a man showed his heavy coffers and she fell backwards into his bed," she started to tremble with rage.

"Princess, calm yourself," I tried to soothe her. She allowed me place my hands on her shoulders. In truth, this was as close as I ever thought I would be to her. To be allowed to touch her was a greater honor to me than the medals her husband presented to me after our bout with the darkness.

"No. No, this is no time to be calm," she lifted her hand to silence all our voices before we even had a chance to speak, "Logan has overstepped his boundaries by engaging himself to such a stupidly ambitious cunt. I will make sure that the great prostitute, along with my brother, burn for their transgressions! Them and any bastards they produce! I don't care if I have to summon the flames from Hell, they will all pay!" Her eyes darted to Brandon, making him jump in seat, "Tomorrow we will hold another meeting-,"

"I'm afraid meeting with Brandon tomorrow is impossible," Major Swift interrupted her, "I have arranged for us to meet with a contact of mine. She goes by the name of Paige and she will be a great ally in the upcoming revolution. It would be politically unwise to ignore her,"

"Of course. I trust your judgement, Major Swift," she nodded to him, "Brandon. Considering you still have your head and Margaret still has her position as a lady in waiting, I am led to believe that you are a man of some substance,"

"Yes, your grace?" he tilted his head to the side, showing his confusion.

"Will you pledge yourself to me? And swear that you will aid me in retaking my kingdom?" Brandon approached her with a determined expression. Without hesitation, he fell to one knee, lowered his head and placed his hands over his heart.

"I swear to you, Princess Anne of Albion, that my family will always be your ally. Whatever trials you face, I will face them by your side. In this world. And the next," he pledged. He lifted his head to face her, "Command me, Princess,"

"Your orders are to use whatever resources at your disposal to uncover any incriminating evidence against Mistress Haddock,"

"Lady Haddock, you mean," Walter corrected her.

"I refuse to acknowledge her as a noble. Her family wormed their way into court using their money. They are not nobles," Her attention returned to Brandon, "Not only will you find evidence against Mistress Haddock but against by brother's supporters as well. When I become queen there will be no trace of Logan. Your goal, find the rats. And when the time comes, run them out,"

A calculating smile broke across his face, "If your grace demands it, consider it done,"


	5. A moment of truth

Seeing as how her rage couldn't be quenched by any of our words, Walter took the liberty of escorting her away from the situation. He gently coaxed her out of the room so that he could calm her before she spoke any more of burning her enemies at the pyre. As soon as the door closed Brandon's entire attitude changed. His seemingly good nature became frigid. His eyes locked with Major Swift's. While Major Swift seemed unaware of what slight he had done to Brandon, I took notice of the animosity between them.

"I have brought a gift for you," he coldly spoke.

"From who?" Major Swift lifted one of his eyebrows in confusion. Brandon retrieved a gift wrapped in plain brown paper and pressed against Major Swift's chest with a loud thud.

"Margaret. Your wife," The change in Major Swift's demeanor was immediate. Like the flip of coin, he went from confused to concerned, if not a little scared.

"How is she? Is she well? I haven't spoken with her since...," Anger flashed in Brandon's eyes.

"Some husband you are. For all the praises she gives you, I still find you to be unworthy of her affection,"

"I've been married to your sister for two years now. How can you still be so cold to me?"

"That is a discussion for another time," Brandon's cold eyes lingered on me as if he was telling me to get out. I was unfazed by his aggressive demeanor; I crossed my arms and stood next to my Major to clearly express my position.

As soon as Major Swift tore away the brown paper I heard his breath hitch. Hidden beneath the plain paper was the cover of a leather book. The cover had the picture of a rising sun stitched on to the cover in golden thread that shimmered in the candlelight.

"It's a Book of Hours. She also asks me to relay a message to you. She asked me to tell you that she is steadfast in her faith to the Light and that you are in her every prayer. She says that she will come to your side if you should call her. She is, and will forever be, your loving and devoted wife,"

In a very rare moment, I was rendered speechless. Major Swift had kept his wife so well hidden that not even I, his second in command and one of his closest friends, didn't know about her existence. I was aware of the correspondence between him and a woman named Daisy, but Margaret Seymour…I could hardly imagine the type of woman she was.

"I pray you. In these terrible days, treat her as she deserves to be treated. Her loyalty to you may very well mean that her head will be on the chopping block," Brandon pleaded.

"I hope you're speaking hypothetically," Major Swift replied while skimming through the Book of Hours.

"I am not. There are many poisonous rumors surrounding you and every member of your brigade. She is resigned to die on your behalf. You are many things, Major but I know you are not a dishonorable man. You wouldn't let your wife die for your honor. She has just barely kept her position and even then she is slipping,"

Major Swift seemed to drown out Brandon's warnings as he searched through the contents of the book. To my understanding, he was never a religious man so I can only assume that the gift was a gesture meant to remind him of her love rather than to push him to spiritual clarity. I only realize this now as an old man with far more wisdom but back then, my first impression of Margaret Swift was that she was a religious fanatic with her skirts tightened too tight. I inched closer to the book to see what exactly a Book of Hours was.

The thick parchment came alive with vibrant illustrations depicting religious events, the changing of seasons and even the cycle of life and death as believed by followers of the Light. The calligraphy was written in pitch black ink, flowing together in perfect curls, turning these holy words into decoration to add the book's artistic value.

"What is it?" I asked in amazement.

"A collection of prayers, psalms and things of such nature," Major Swift informed me, equally amazed by the craftsmanship. My eyes fell upon one picture of a woman draped in white fabric, caressing her pregnant stomach with the most loving expression on her paper face. She stood in a field of wildflowers with shades of gold bursting from behind her to depict the rising sun.

"Pretty," I mindlessly blurted. Major Swift abruptly shut the book and sharply exhaled to show his annoyance with, most likely, me.

"If Margaret is in such immediate danger then we should act quickly. If we're to get her out then I shall need a map of the castle and the artillery-," Major Swift's plan was beginning to sound more like a siege than a rescue mission, so naturally I agreed with his every word.

"Such tactics may be successful in the swamps of Mourningwood but they will bear no fruit here. You are no politician, and you are certainly no diplomat. I've already formulated a plan to remove my sister from court without arousing suspicion. You play a key role, however," Brandon stepped closer to Major Swift. There was a considerable height difference between them, as Major Swift was able to poke his nose into Brandon's forehead. Not that it hindered Brandon's fortitude. He pulled Major Swift close to him and whispered into his ear so that I couldn't eavesdrop. No matter how hard I tried. I watched Major Swift's expression show his blatant disgust.

"Absolutely-!" Major Swift yelled, ready to lash his anger at Brandon.

"Major Swift," The princess reentered the room, stepping right into the middle of their altercation, "What is bringing you such displeasure?" she innocently asked, acting as if she was not just alight with equal indignation.

"Princess! Have you heard Lord Seymour's plan to rescue Margaret from court?! If it can even be called that!" Major Swift shouted at her.

"I have," her voiced smoothly cut through the tension, "In broad spectrum, it is a small price to pay. I've given him leeway to do whatever is necessary to save her life. It is understandable if you wish to find an alternative route but I am inclined to go along with Brandon's plan. I suggest you do the same,"

Guilt flooded Major Swift's eyes in an instant. He retreated away from the nobles in a polite fashion but there was no doubt that the state of his wife waged a war within him. There was a continuing discussion regarding our plans to meet with the leader of the Resistance and other subjects but my mind wandered halfway through. My mind was far too preoccupied with prejudged opinions of Margaret Swift.

After our meeting was concluded I was given the task of guarding the princess while she slept. Both our heads whipped towards Walter's proposal. As a witness to the powers of thunder and ice she so freely commands, the proposal seemed so unnecessary. She was far more capable at protecting herself than I could ever be. As she was kind enough to point out in my presence. Jokingly, Walter reasoned that in the event of an attack it would be wise to have a witness to any murders she committed in self-defense. On a more serious note, he was truly concerned for her safety. An attack wasn't an unreasonable thought considering we were behind enemy lines. With so many eyes in the city if our presence somehow found its way to the King's ear an attack would be guaranteed. Walter's true reason behind having me guard the princess wasn't that she couldn't manage it herself but that he wanted to ensure her survival by having another person there to aid her in such circumstances.

Seeing the truth behind his words, we both accepted his proposal. We took our lodgings in her room further down the hall. The room itself was small with only one bed big enough to fit one person. There was also a small table near the window with a pair of chairs to accompany it. The princess ordered the door to be closed as she lit the tall candle placed at her nightstand.

"Please turn away, Mr. Finn," she requested of me. I faced the locked door, wary to keep control of myself as I watched her silhouette strip away her clothes. The candlelight, though dim, created a shadow of her body on the walls. I caught myself taking slow deep breaths as the shadow tempted me to turn my head to see what secrets it kept. For once, I followed the guidance of the head on my shoulders. I kept my eyes forward and secretly enjoyed the show of the shadow.

"You may turn around now," she announced. I turned around to see the princess preparing her bed and leaning over, unintentionally giving me a peek of what she hid under her white nightgown. I diverted my attention away from her by taking the pillow and blanket she placed on the table near the window.

"You look quite lovely tonight, your grace," I charmed her. A small smile broke across the princess's face before she turned away in an effort to compose herself.

"Thank you, Mr. Finn," she graciously replied. As I made my sleeping arrangements on the floor I would try to sneak a glance at her. She brushed her hair with a vacant look that reminded me of our first meeting. I unfolded the blanket wondering what thoughts were running through her head once again but unlike before, I could now ask. She could no longer be a mystery to me when I had her so close.

We didn't bother saying goodnight to each other. A typical formality between roommates, we chose to ignore it on this night. Neither of us was comfortable with the situation so instead we laid in dark silence and tried to force ourselves to sleep. Soon enough midnight was upon us. I turned myself to lay on my back and let out a deep sigh.

"Can you not sleep either, Mr. Finn?" I heard her inquire.

"No, I can't. And yourself?"

"Not a wink,"

"What shall we do then?" I chuckled. I heard her shift out of bed and the strike of the match. The room was lighted by a fresh candle she pulled from the nightstand. I raised myself on my elbows and watched as she moved across the room to the table set near the window. She leaned back in her seat with her eyebrow lifted expectantly.

"Will you join me, Mr. Finn? Since neither of us can sleep don't you think it would be better to pass the time playing a game rather than sitting in awkward silence?" she reached across the table to a deck of cards that I didn't notice before. She shuffled the cards with skill equal to any swindler in Albion. Her manicured hands moved swiftly between the cards as she maintained her serious expressions. I followed her instructions and took the seat in front of her.

"What game would you like to play?" she asked with her eyes casted downwards.

"Are you familiar with the game Black Jack?" As soon as our eyes met she smiled. She tried to cover her smile with the back of her hand but it was too late. She was already giggling to herself as if she knew a secret that I didn't.

"Yes, I am familiar with the game. I use to play it with my brother. I once played it with my brother and all the foreign dignitaries he invited over. I won four hundred gold pieces that night and the interest of three different nations. I got many letters the following week, all asking permission to court me," she separated our cards with a distantly pleasant look on her face.

"And you never accepted any of these proposals?" I chuckled as I tried to sneak a peek at the cards she dealt me.

"Of course I didn't. I'm the princess of Albion, next in line for throne. I wasn't about to marry beneath me to some foreign duke looking for a power grab with little to no political power and barely enough money to finance his trip back home,"

"But you accepted the proposal of a noble family who is literally beneath you?"

"The Seymour family is hardly beneath me. Before my father's death he created a bill that stated if either Logan or I were unfit to rule then a member of the Seymour family would take the throne. This created a lot of…friction within the court. As Logan became more of a tyrant, Brandon was slowly starting a campaign to overthrow him. His participation in our resistance is much more personal than you or I will ever know,"

"How did you manage the tension? With your gentle touch I'm sure it wasn't that difficult," we both laughed at my joke, knowing well enough that her gentle touch was the equivalent of an earthquake.

"I proposed a marriage between myself and Brandon's younger brother, Elliot. The Seymours had a direct line to the throne, Brandon no longer had any reason to usurp my brother, and my position as queen was secure," She cheerfully explained.

"Why marry his younger brother, though? Why not just marry Brandon?"

"Because it was easier to control Elliot," her remark cut straight into my heart. I still couldn't understand if she was the wolf or the lamb. Her mystery did little to add to her allure. In fact, it only made her all the more terrifying.

"Did you love him?" My question caused a shift in the atmosphere. The princess stared at her cards with glistening eyes. She breathed deeply and blinked away the tears that threatened to fall down her ivory cheeks.

"There was an affection. I did not love him the way a wife ought to love her husband. My love didn't run as deep as Margaret's love for Major Swift. I'm entitled to a lot of things, Mr. Finn. Money, power, a military. But even as a child I never dared to dream for a marriage of love. So I settled for friendship,"

"I'm sorry," I tried miserably to comfort her.

"There is no need. Logan is marrying Mistress Haddock for love. Much like my mother did when she married my father. They are so alike. They both fell in love too fast and will soon find themselves manipulated, used and discarded once they've exhausted their use. He will soon see that love and marriage will never coincide. Friendship and security is the most any man or woman will receive from the union,"

"That's a cold outlook," We lifted our cards to begin our game. We both put on our masks again for the duration of the night. More for her sake than for mine.

For a moment I saw another side to her. She made the decision to strip away her title for the night so that we could enjoy each other's company. I heard her laugh, her smart remarks and the way she let out a satisfied sigh each time she won. But for every silver lining there will always be dark cloud looming over it. Every gesture of her affection made my fondness for her grow. Not only as a monarch but as a person. I saw the sincerity in her eyes as she remembered her past life. The hurt, the joy, the bitterness. She was hidden so well under the disguise of royalty that I had almost forgotten that she too was also human.

Our night came to a pleasant end when we saw small rays of sun light our room. A part of me wished for the sun's disappearance. The princess placed her cards on the table and stretched her arms out. I watched her move to the windows and pull open the shutters, allowing the morning light to illuminate our room. She turned to me with tired bags under her eyes.

"I trust that what I told you about my relationship with Elliot will remain between us only," she said without the harshness that I expected from her. Her voice was quiet. The tenderness that radiated from her would undoubtedly disperse once we were in the presence of others but for this moment, this one immortal moment, she put herself in my hands.

"Princess Anne," I gasped, "I would never dream of betraying your trust. Your secrets will always be safe with me,"


End file.
